


Hurt

by beaniebeaniebaby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Lucius Malfoy, Angst, Draco hates himself, Graphic depictions of violence as in self harm, Harry Potter gives out hugs like candy, He regrets being a deatheater, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Narcissa Black Malfoy is a Good Parent, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Touch Starved Draco, don't read if you're going to be upset by self harm please! it is explicitly described, draco doesn't trust anyone, harry just wants him to forgive himself, please comment i am needy, she tried to do her best with a bad situation, short fic, they are between friends and lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaniebeaniebaby/pseuds/beaniebeaniebaby
Summary: Harry has forgiven Draco, but Draco refuses to forgive himself. Harry befriends him, hoping to help ease his guilt, but it doesn't work. They move to different places in London, but Harry visits frequently to check on Draco. One visit, he finds Draco on the verge of death.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 159





	1. Finding Out

Draco shut his eyes, leaning back from the desk he had been hunched over for too long. He had just finished his work for the day, and was prepared to go home. As a former Auror, though now in a much higher position, he had to deal with small pockets of Purists, wizards who fancied themselves as a new wave of Death Eaters. He had reassured a worried Harry Potter and Hermoine Granger that it would be fine, but he felt horrible. Dealing with those wizards brought him back to the lowest point of his life, the part which he was most ashamed of. It always weighed on him, and he could never escape the little voice inside his head.

" _You aren't worth it,"_ the voice always said. " _You don't deserve anything you have now. You'll always be a coward, a Death Eater._ "

Draco passed a hand over his face, and stood. It was time for him to go, before he broke down here in the Ministry. He stepped into the empty elevator, clenching his fists, digging his nails into his palms in an effort to keep the tears from falling. He made it to his flat, where he stayed when he couldn't face the cold Malfoy manor. He had almost made it into his bedroom before collapsing into tears. He slid down to the floor, pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs, lest the neighbors hear. He didn't deserve their pity, nor their kindness. He wasn't worth it. The voice in his head was right. 

He stayed there for a long while, laid on the floor in his kitchen, sobs wracking his chest and body. He desperately scratched at his arms, trying to get the voice that jeered in his head to be quiet for just one moment. He just wanted one moment of peace, one moment where he wasn't consumed by guilt and by grief. He dug and dug and dug his nails into his arms, until they were red and burning. Even the sting of the raw skin couldn't distract him from the torment he brought on himself everyday. 

When the tears finally subsided, and he could stand, he staggered into his bedroom. Draco fell onto his bed, hiccuping, and stayed there until his ragged breathing was slower. He felt drained, completely exhausted, but sleep refused to come. There was a dark feeling nagging at him, one he tried to ignore. He rolled onto his side, curling up with a small stuffed dragon his mother had given him when he was young. It didn't bring him the same comfort now, only further guilt. His parents had been killed, murdered by a witch whose family they had slaughtered for Voldemort. Draco felt no remorse for his father's death. He felt a small pang of sadness for his mother, knowing she had simply been trying to survive her marriage to Lucius as best she could. 

The feeling continued to itch at him, and he wished he had never come into his room. On his nightstand was a small knife, which he had used to open a letter earlier in the day. He groaned, burying his face in his hands. He knew Harry could visit at any time- he had a habit of popping in unexpectedly to check on Draco. It had never bothered him until now, when he desperately wished to be left alone forever. He opened his eyes, and the knife glinted in the lamplight.

Without thinking, he grabbed it, and held it over his arm. He hardly hesitated before dragging it through his skin, tearing it open. He kept going until he ran out of room on his left arm, then switched to the right. He was wild, frantic, completely out of control. He gasped in agony as the pain seeped through the adrenaline, and made his hands shake. Draco watched the blood gush out of the cuts, staring in horror at what he had done. They were too deep- far deeper than he had ever gone before- and he already felt faint. 

Through the haze, he heard scribbling on parchment, and realized Harry was writing to him through the enchanted paper. He stumbled to the desk. barely able to move. 

"Draco, I can't sleep, would it be alright if I came round?"

He stared at the paper, silently cursing Harry's intuition for when Draco was upset. He heard ringing in his ears, and the edges of his vision crept in. He reached for the parchment, leaving a swipe of blood across it, before falling to the floor, room spinning around him. The last thing he heard before he blacked out was the crack of an apparation outside of his door.


	2. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds Draco bleeding out in his apartment.

Harry apparated to Draco's door, pausing before turning the handle. He hadn't responded to Harry's note, but left a strange mark on the paper, like spilled ink. His stomach rolled as he though of the other explanation- blood. He shook his head as he took out his wand to let himself into Draco's flat. No, it couldn't be blood. Draco had too much wine, and probably just spilled the scarlet ink that went with the paper. It was the anniversary of the death of the Malfoys, after all, and Draco was likely just upset.

He stepped into the apartment, and knew something was wrong. The air felt cold, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He called out to the empty apartment.

"Draco? Are you here?"

Silence greeted him as he made his way into the kitchen. The bedroom door was shut. Harry checked the bathroom first, making sure Draco hadn't passed out from being sick. He put his hand on the doorknob of Draco's room, feeling strangely hesitant about entering. Draco valued his privacy, and if he knew Harry had entered without asking him, he might be upset. Harry knocked first, calling out again. When he got no answer, he pushed the door open.

"Draco?"

He caught sight of the bloody man on the other side of the room, and gasped. It couldn't be. His legs threatened to give out under him as he made his way to Draco's side. As soon as he saw the knife, all hesitation left his body. He knelt down, grabbing his arms. He pulled out his wand, gently running it over the deep wounds.

" _Vulnera sanentur. Vulnera sanentur. Vulnera sanentur,_ " Harry whispered, casting the healing spell over and over until the wounds began to stitch themselves back together. The last time he had seen this spell be cast on Malfoy was in their sixth year, when he cast Snape's spell, _sectumsempra._ Satisfied that the cuts would close, Harry dashed to the bathroom, searching for dittany in the cabinet. He quickly dropped it into the wounds, trying to prevent as much scarring as he could. He continued to chant the spell, though his wand was no longer in his hands. It was his comfort blanket now, the only thing giving his hope it wasn't too late to save Draco Malfoy. His arms slowly came together, pink and scarred, though it looked like they would vanish in a few days. Harry gently cradled Draco's head in his lap, and felt around his neck for a pulse, not wanting to interfere with the magic working on his wrists. It was there, slow and weak. It seemed as if Draco was still alive. Harry's heart began to slow from its wild hammer in his chest and he released a shaky breath. 

He took up his wand again, and muttered, " _Targeo,_ " siphoning the blood away form Draco's body and carpet. Harry noticed he was still in his ministry robes, with a button up and trousers beneath. He gently removed the robes, as well as Draco's belt and shoes, before picking him up. He placed Draco on his side in bed, and noticed the small dragon plush still lying on the covers. He tucked it into Draco's arms, and pulled the covers over his shivering body. Harry whispered a quiet spell to keep Draco warm, before sitting at his desk, there the enchanted parchment lay. Draco's blood was on the desk, and Harry simply scrubbed at it with a small handkerchief instead of using magic. When the stain had lifted, Harry leaned back.

His bag lay on the floor next to him, and he pulled out some of his ministry work, intending to work until Draco awoke. Harry checked the watch Molly Weasley had given him for his sixteenth birthday. It was 10:30pm, not too late. Harry had been trying to sleep before he had written to Draco, but knowing it was the day Draco's parents had died ten years ago kept him awake and concerned. It seemed as if he was right to worry. He ran a hand through his hair and pushed up his glasses before settling down to finish the paperwork Hermoine had been after him about. He was about three quarters of the way done when the candle started to sputter. It was nearly burned out. Harry sighed and rummaged through Draco's desk, looking for candles.

He lit two, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Draco stirred slightly, but did not wake up fully. Harry felt relieved that St. Mungo's wouldn't be necessary tonight. He knew Draco would never forgive him if he was taken to the hospital. he turned back to his work, finishing the papers for Hermione, and beginning a new stack for his direct boss, Oliver Poole. He finished them too, and relit two new candles. He sat back in the desk chair, looking at Draco's sleeping form. It was 4:30 in the morning, according to Harry's watch. he sighed, and went to fetch Draco's owl from the living room. She was a glossy white bird, and she reminded Harry somewhat of Hedwig, though not nearly as fussy. He quickly penned a letter to Poole and Hermoine, letting them know an emergency had arisen, and he and Draco would not be in to work for a few days. He sent the owl off, watching her fly through the London fog. 

He returned to Draco's room to see the other man slowly waking. He looked around, confused, then stared at his arms. Harry leaned in the doorway.

"Hey."

Draco's eyes snapped upward, meeting Harry's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! If you've already read this chapter and are rereading it you might notice I changed the anniversary of the Malfoys' deaths from 5 to 10 years ago- this is just to give Draco some more room for the stuff Harry talks about him doing in ch. 4. Enjoy!


	3. Get Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is resentful that Harry has found him and healed him. Arguments ensue.

"Get out," was the first thing to slip out of Draco's mouth. Harry looked surprised. Draco clenched his fists and swung his legs out from under the blankets. He stood, wobbly, and leaned heavily on the desk chair to keep himself upright.

"Draco-"

"No! You ruined it. You've ruined everything! You have to save the day, don't you? You always have to be Saint Potter, too good to just let someone die, even if they deserve it. Saint Potter, Head Auror and best friend to the Minister of Magic. Saint Potter, better than I am, has to swoop in and save me," he spat, voice shaking as much as his hands. "I don't want your pity! I don't want your friendship, I don't want you to come in and save me! You should have left me alone. I was supposed to die, and you ruined it."

Harry stood in the doorway, frowning. He looked at Draco with such softness in his eyes that at was all the blond could do to not break down again. He grabbed a paperweight from his desk and threw it at Harry. It bounced harmlessly off his arm, as Draco hardly had the strength to pick it up, much less cause damage. He blinked back tears as Harry picked up the dome and crossed the room, placing it back on the desk. He gathered Draco up in his arms, holding him.

"Get off me! Get off! I don't want you here, I don't want to see you." Draco struggled weakly, trying to writhe out of Harry's grasp, but couldn't. He gave up, panting and head spinning. He weakly pushed against Harry's chest one last time, before dropping his arms to his side and stiffly enduring the hug. He felt miserable. He could tell Harry had been in his apartment for a long time, seeing the multiple burnt out candles, and the sunlight beginning to peak into his windows from outside. It was some time in the early morning, but Draco had no idea when. Harry finally let Draco go, but kept a hand on his arm, curling around his bicep. 

"Draco."

"What?" he asked sullenly, trying to put as much resentment into his voice as possible.

"You need to go back to sleep," Harry said, looking away. Draco thought he was going to say more, the way his breath hitched, but he remained silent.

"No, I don't. I'm fine."

He pulled his arm out of Harry's grasp, and picked up the cardigan he kept folded by his bed. He buttoned it around his shivering form, and brushed past Harry into the kitchen. He started the coffee pot with a jab of his wand, glaring bitterly at the healed pink skin on his wrist. the scars were faded, and Draco knew they would disappear soon. Harry had always had a knack for healing spells, which Draco usually appreciated. Now, he hated it. He just wanted to die. All he wanted was to sink away into some blissful oblivion and forget about the world that hurt him. He would leave behind no ghost, no trace of himself. He knew no one would mourn, except maybe Harry, damn him. 

He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He had forgotten how quietly Harry could walk. he spun around, wand level with Harry's chest, glaring at him. The black haired man sighed, and cupped Draco's face in a strangely tender movement.

"Put the wand down, Draco. Please. I know you're mad at me, but I also know you're not going to hex me."

"I told you to get out."

"I'm not leaving you."

Draco blinked, pausing at the wording.

"I want to help, Draco. That's all. Let me be Saint Potter for just a few more days. I've already owled 'Mione and Poole, we have the rest of the week off."

Draco stayed silent. It was Tuesday, and he knew Potter wouldn't get off his back until he gave in. He supposed six days of letting Potter take care of him would be easier than six days of fighting. He sighed.

"Fine. Stay," he lowered his wand, stuffing it in the pocket of his cardigan. 

"Thank you. Do you want me to make breakfast?"

"I haven't got any food in here. Just coffee."

Harry stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge a response. 

"Alright. Let's go to the shop then. You need to eat."

"No, I don't. I've got coffee," he muttered. He knew it wasn't a strong enough case for Harry to back off, but he tried. He hadn't seen his appearance yet, but he assumed it was peaky and disheveled. He probably looked like a pale, blond Harry. The thought irritated him, and he moved to smooth down his hair. 

"Draco, you know that's not enough. Put on your shoes and let's go."

"I'm not coming with you."

"And I'm not leaving you here alone. D'you really reckon I'm that stupid?"

Draco didn't respond. He grumbled under his breath as he went to find a pair of shoes. He stopped in the bathroom, and was slightly shocked at how bad he looked. His eyes were red and puffy, with circles forming underneath that looked more like shadowy bruises than anything else. he was paler than normal, and had a sickly green tint to his cheeks. He splashed come cold water on his face, and combed his hair back. He put on the first pair of shoes he could find, and came back out. Harry passed him a mug of coffee with too much milk and sugar. Exactly how Draco preferred it. 

"I always assumed you would drink black coffee, you know."

"You thought about what kind of coffee I drank?"

Harry shrugged, "Not specifically, but I sort of assumed you'd enjoy it bitter. You seem like someone who would drink black coffee."

Draco shook his head, "Too much of a sweet tooth. My mother spoiled me with sweets when I was young."

He closed his eyes, feeling the hotness grow behind them, threatening to push tears over the edge. His mother, his poor mother. She didn't deserve this. She married his father because she had to, and did everything she could to protect Draco. Even through Lucius's rage, his brutality towards them, she always protected him. He thought about the first conversation they had after the battle at Hogwarts. She pulled him aside, and hugged him so tight to her chest he thought he would break. She told him what happened in the forest, how she spared Harry's life. Draco stood, numbly, in the kitchen as he thought about his mother. He knew Harry would try to hug him, and didn't flinch when he felt the other man's touch. Damn Harry, always trying to comfort him.

He accepted the gesture his time, hesitantly putting his arms around Harry. It felt nice. He had never really been hugged until Harry befriended him, but between Molly Weasley, Hermoine Granger, and Harry Potter, there was hardly a moment when arms weren't around him. Even Charlie Weasley was a hugging sort of person. Harry released him, and brushed away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb.

"Come on. Let's get you some food, alright?"


	4. Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter, with some sad fluff. Definitely very angsty, but with a few good moments.

"Wait."

"What? Are you okay?" Harry asked, looking at the other man.

"Yes, Potter. Except that it's barely dawn, nothing is going to be open at this hour. Unless you plan on going into muggle London, you're going to have to wait."

"Oh. I supposed that is an issue. Muggle London it is, then. Ready?"

Draco stared at Harry for a moment, hoping it would be a joke. Surely he didn't actually intend to go out in to the muggle side of the city now. Unfortunately, Harry seemed to be set on going, and bringing Draco with him. 

"Alright, fine. Let's go, I'd rather get this done quickly," he grumbled at Harry, who nodded, and opened the door. 

Draco trailed behind miserably, hugging his loose sweater against him. He felt awful, worse than he had in a long time. His head pounded and his mouth was dry. Just the though of people made his stomach churn. He pushed up his sleeves slightly, which were already too short. His long arms never quite fit, and he hated it. The scars on his wrists were still raised and visible, though not angry red. He wished he had taken his cardigan to Madam Malkin to have the sleeves lengthened, as the extra knitting would have served him well at the moment. He tugged the sleeves down, hoping they would not reveal his secrets to some unwitting muggle. 

They walked for some time, each step making Draco feel weaker and weaker. When they finally arrived at the shop, Draco was out of breath and paler than usual. Harry noted his appearance, and frowned.

"Draco, are you alright? You don't look well."

"I'm doing absolutely splendid," he said, glaring at Harry, "Now please, let's get on with the shopping."

"Alright. I'm going to get some basics for your kitchen. You look for any crisps or snacks you want around the flat."

Draco nodded, and walked away from Harry, looking around uncomfortably at the unfamiliar variety of muggle food. He slowly browsed the shelves, looking for some biscuits or something else sweet. He reached up toward the top shelf, and took down a box. He took a deep breath, feeling rather lightheaded. 

"Are you alright, dear? You look a bit peaky," a quiet voice said to his left. An older woman was standing there, looking concerned at Draco. He blushed, unused to the concern of strangers. Even in a city as big as London, every witch or wizard knew of the Malfoys, and therefore Draco.

"Ah, yes. Thank you. Feeling under the weather, but I'm alright," he said, politely, hoping to avoid further conversation. He was becoming dizzy, his heart palpitating. She was looking at him intently, and then there was a young girl in the aisle too, and a boy. They all looked at Draco and he began to back away. 

"Come, love, let us help you," the lady said kindly, extending a hand to catch Draco's. His sleeves inched up, and the woman looked shocked at his arms.

Draco pulled away quickly, blushing and upset. Blood was pounding in his ears, and he needed to find Harry. He needed Harry and he needed to leave. His tongue felt thick and cottony in his mouth, and a pit formed in his stomach. He stumbled over his feet, trying to move away from the woman, and he tripped. He crashed to the ground, world reeling about and spinning over him. He felt heavy and exhausted, leaden limbs unable to push himself up again. The world started to fade to black, and he could barely call out Harry's name before he faded. 

He woke up, somehow feeling worse than when he was in the shop. He noticed he was in bed again, this time in his pajamas, with bright daylight coming through the window. He paused at the first thought, realizing Harry must have undressed him. He cringed, thinking about how scarred and torn up he was, between his days as an Auror and his days spent inflicting every pain imaginable on himself. Having mastered Occlumency, Draco found it easy to compartmentalize his emotions, and had gained the willpower to cast the Cruciatus Curse on himself more than once. He deserved the pain he gave himself. He could never make up for his teenage years, spent bullying and harassing those who he believed to be less than he was. He had joined the Death Eaters and terrorized countless people. He was heartless and undeserving of any good thing he had been given. His thoughts halted as his door opened.

Harry entered, holding a bowl of porridge and a glass of water. Harry handed Draco the bowl, and set the glass on the nightstand. He sighed, pushing his glasses up, and sat on the edge of Draco's bed, gazing out the window. 

"Saint Potter, making a Death Eater breakfast in bed. How scandalous," the blond drawled, though it lacked any true venom.

Harry looked sharply at Draco nonetheless, "You are not a Death Eater, Draco. You have moved on. You gave up that life and you learned from your mistakes. You are not the boy you used to be."

"I have a tattoo that begs to differ. Isn't it what the Daily Prophet says, anyway? Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Everyone thinks I'm working on the Purists so I can help them escape and bring back the old ways. I don't blame them, of course. I was a horrible person for a very long time, although I suppose I've downgraded to just bad at this point. I was a bully and an ass, I was vile and sexist. I hated muggle borns for no reason other than my father telling me I must."

"Draco, please. You've moved on. You spent half your money just to rebuild where the Death Eaters destroyed homes. You personally housed, clothed, and fed several families that Voldemort destroyed parts of."

"Guilt makes men do strange things. I spent the first five years trying to repair the damage my family had done, but it wasn't enough. I should have been killed too. I should have been killed with them, Harry," he said, setting aside the empty bowl. He drank the water quickly, and turned away from Harry. He couldn't hold back his tears, but he could hide them.

Harry rested a hand on Draco's shoulder, feeling the other man shake to hold in sobs. He understood why Draco felt this way. He hated Draco in the beginning, too, and hardly thought they would end up close. At first it wasn't friendship, really. They found each other one night, a few years after the battle, wandering in a small park in the late hours. They walked in silence, nothing said between them, but everything shared. They rarely spoke at work, but at night, when they couldn't sleep, they would make their way to the park, and find the other waiting to walk. Harry had found one page of the enchanted parchment in his desk with emerald green ink one morning, after a rather long walk with Draco the previous night. There was a short note that read, " _To let me know when you need to walk. I understand. -D.M._ " He found it mildly amusing that Draco had given him the green ink and kept the red ink for himself.

Harry had taken it home, and when he found himself staring at the ceiling blankly, he rolled over and saw, scribbled on it, " _10 minutes?_ " He replied quickly, " _I'll be there._ " When Harry reached the park, surely enough, Draco was waiting on a bench, cardigan and scarf wrapped around him, hands trembling. It was the day Draco's parents were killed. He had looked at Harry with such a torment in his eyes that Harry could do nothing but throw his arms around the other man. Draco had been stiff at first, but broke down sobbing in seconds. They stayed like that for hours, Harry holding Draco, Draco finally feeling safe. When the sun rose, not a word had been spoken, but everything necessary had been said. 

Now, Harry saw Draco holding the pain at bay, and laid down next to him, pulling the blond close to his chest, and wrapping an arm around him. Draco went stiff and still at the touch.

"Potter, what are you doing?"

"Shh. Just let it go, don't say anything," Harry whispered, knowing Draco remembered the night as clearly as Harry did. Draco took in a ragged breath, and all of the tears he had been holding back came spilling out. He felt awful, like a child, when he cried, and yet it seemed to be all he could do in the past day. There had been a flood's worth of tears already, and still more came. Harry curled up tight against him, running one hand through his blond hair, and tucking the other around Draco. He held him there until the sobs slowly subsided, and Draco no longer cried. When the tears had dried, Harry sat up, keeping Draco tight against him. He moved so he was behind him, the blond sitting between his legs, resting against his chest. Harry kept his arms protectively around Draco, and laid his forehead on Draco's head, feeling exhaustion set into his bones. Harry had not yet slept, but he was too concerned about Draco hurting himself again to trust him alone. 

"Draco?" he mumbled into the man's hair.

"Yes?"

"Will you hurt yourself if I am asleep and can't stop you?"

Draco sighed, "No. I won't. I'll want to, but I know you need rest, and if me not hurting myself will let you rest, I'll comply. I'll even stay here with you so you'll know if I get up."

Harry nodded, and leaned back against the pillows, quickly descending into sleep, arms wrapped tightly around Draco. Draco nestled back into Harry's chest, and fell asleep again, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter! Or at least, comparatively long for me. I hope you enjoyed getting a little more with this one. I wanted to get some more content because I posted the first three so quickly that I figured it would be good to start developing the chapters more in depth instead of rapid short chapters. Let me know if you guys prefer longer or shorted chapters.
> 
> Also, just a little clarification on the timeline- Draco and Astoria don't marry, nor Ginny and Harry. This is set well after the battle at Hogwarts, I'd imagine 15 years or so, putting Draco and Harry around 30. Lucius and Narcissa were killed ten years ago, or about five years after the battle. Obviously Hermoine became Minister here well before she does in canon, but hey, it's fan -fiction- for a reason. 
> 
> If y'all have any questions about the timeline or chapters or whatever, please drop a comment. If you just want to say hello, drop a comment! It's awesome to see all the kudos and I really appreciate you guys taking time to read my work!


	5. Finally

Waking up in anyone's arms was a new feeling for Draco, much less Harry's. He was nestled against a warm chest, strong arms holding him in place. Harry's breathing was gentle across the back of his neck, and Draco finally felt content. There was something else, some other nagging feeling, but he was too tired to think about it, and sunk back into sleep.

Harry felt Draco stir against him, but kept his breathing slow, hoping to lull him back into sleep. He knew they both needed it, but Draco especially. He felt him settle back in, face pressed in against his arm. Harry was surprised at how tender he felt. There was a lovely feeling that blossomed down in his sternum, a warmth that he knew came from holding the other man. There was no way to explain it except some kind of love. He knew it wasn't the same as when they were still at Hogwarts and he dated Ginny- that was never serious. He never felt so content and at peace with her, But here, with Draco wrapped in his arms, there was a feeling of total bliss. 

Draco woke again to Harry's hand lazily stroking his hair, the other supporting his head. He sighed softly, rolling onto his side, cuddling further into Harry. He didn't know why he felt so happy like this, especially given the events of the past few days, but here, in these moments, he felt okay. He knew he felt more deeply about Harry than he had ever before, but it felt good. It felt warm. For the first time, Draco truly felt safe.

He looked up at Harry, brushing a few strands of blond hair out of his eyes. Harry looked half asleep still, eyes nearly shut and lips slightly parted. Without thinking, Draco leaned up and kissed him. It was soft and quick, almost as if he hadn't at all. 

Harry's eyes shot open at the touch, and he looked at Draco, who was already blushing and moving away from his arms. Harry tightened his hold on him before he could sit up and get away.He smiled gently at the blond man, and leaned in for another kiss. There was no need to speak, just like the first night they found each other. There was comfort in the familiar silence of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao sorry i forgot about this fic. i'm back in school and shit's wildin'. enjoy the ending babes.


End file.
